


Sweet Angel o' Mine

by vangogh_hoe



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU Timeline, Angelic Grace, Comforting Castiel, Dean Deserves to be Happy, Dean Has Self-Worth Issues, Destiel - Freeform, Fluff, Hunter Castiel, Hunter Dean Winchester, Hunting, Injured Sam, Light Angst, Loving Castiel, M/M, No Smut, Saving People Hunting Things, Self-Hatred, Sharing a Bed, Sorry Not Sorry, Virgin Castiel, more plot than i intended
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-09 04:18:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 4,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11661468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vangogh_hoe/pseuds/vangogh_hoe
Summary: Cas goes hunting with Dean when Sam is too injured to go.Dean has self-worth issues and Cas wants to help him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set in/around the beginning of Season 9, if the angels never fell, Cas didn't lose his grace, and Bobby isn't dead.  
> P.S. be prepared for some pretty short chapters

“Dean, I’m fine! Let me do this, I can help!”  
“No Sam; You're not fine. You’ve been coughing up blood, and the bags under your eyes are going darkside, and frankly, it’s creeping me the hell out.”  
“So what, you’re benching me?”  
“Tell you what,” Dean said while pulling his gun out, checking the chamber, and then handing it over to Sam, “if you can so much as even hit the target, you can go.”  
“Fine,” Sam takes the gun from Dean and follows him to the shooting range in the bunker. He gets himself settled into a comfortable footing position and raises the gun, aiming for the target in from of him. He fires. One. Two. Three. None hit the target, so he gives the gun back to Dean, frustrated, and leaves the room. “Ok, I’ll stay, but if you get into too much trouble, you call.”  
“Ok, ok. I’m leaving in 5.”  
Dean throws some extra salt and iron, and his “monkey suit” into the car, along with some lore books, just in case it's not a simple vengeful spirit case, which it almost never is; But hey, maybe he’s lucky this time. Sam protests some more, but Dean still ends up leaving alone.


	2. Chapter 2

He’s cruising down the road, listening to the classics that come on the radio and enjoying the warm night air comb through his hair. Right in this moment, things were good. Simple.  
“ _That was the iconic ‘Stairway to Heaven’. Up next, Guns n’ Roses ‘Sweet Child O’ Mine’.”_  
Hell yes! He hasn't heard this wonderful masterpiece in years, and he’d be damned if he didn’t crank it up.  
“She’s got a smile that it seems to me, reminds me of childhood memories……”  
Dean is already really into the song, batting on the steering wheel, and bobbing his head up and down, and even singing along a little.  
“She’s got eyes of the bluest skies, that if they thought of rain, I’d hate to look into those eyes and see an ounce of pain….”  
‘ _Mmh. I wonder who has the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. Probably Cas, I mean his are pretty damn blue. I haven't seen him in awhile, I wonder what he’s doing right now…,’_ Dean wondered.  
“Her hair reminds me of a warm safe place where as a child I’d hide…”  
‘ _Well since I’m already on the topic of Cas, he’s got some nice hair too. It always looks so soft. Do angels have to wash their hair? I guess not, but hey, knowing Cas, he’d probably do it just to do it_ —WOOOAAAAHHH SWEET CHILD O” MIIIINNEE!”  
He immersed himself in the marvelous sounds coming from the electric guitar as it’s solo started playing.  
“Hello, Dean. You called?”  
“Shit! Cas! You scared the hell outta me! Can’t you like, announce yourself or something?! And what the hell are you talking about, I didn't pray to you,” Dean said while turning down the radio.  
“Well it wasn't so much of a prayer, but more of a longing that I felt, so I figured I’d come and pay you a visit.”  
“Ok, I still don't know what you're talking about, but I guess you can ride shotgun for a while if you want.”  
“Yes, I’d like that.  
“So, um, how’s the whole Heaven thing going? Are things settling down now or…?”  
“I don’t want anything to do with Heaven right now, and I know for certain they don’t want anything to do with me either…” Cas took a long pause, trying to push those thoughts out of his head. Dean couldn't think of anything comforting to say and the silence was deafening to the point where Castiel couldn't take it anymore.  
“So, what are you off doing?” And where’s Sam?”  
“I, uh, got a call from one of Bobby’s old friends. Turns out they have a vengeful spirit in their house. He must’ve told ‘em what kinda work we do, so anyway, I figured I could just run out and wrap this up quickly. And I left Sam back at the bunker because these trials are tearing him apart and I didn't know what else to do.”  
“Yes. Sam is very damaged from trails in ways even I can’t heal, especially after the 2nd one. The last thing he needs to be doing right now is hunting. But, without Sam by your side, you are left very vulnerable, so if you want, I could help you on this one.”  
“Yeah Cas, sure. But no zapping around places. From here on out, unless it's an emergency, our only means of travel is either on wheels or on foot.”  
Cas sighed, “As you wish, Dean.”  
It was a long drive to Cheyenne Wyoming, but Dean was actually pretty glad Cas was there to keep him company. They drove for about 4 1/2 hours. Dean was too tired to go on any further and didn't trust Cas to drive his baby, let alone leave her in his hands while he was asleep, so he pulled into the nearest motel he could find. This place was in the middle of nowhere, with only a couple surrounding homes and farms. It was the only motel, hotel, or inn for miles, so it'll do just fine.  
“What can I do for you gentlemen,” the lady behind the counter asked when they walked into the main lobby.  
“Hi, we’ll take a room with two queens,” Dean responded sounding as exhausted as he looked.  
“I’m sorry sir, but we only have one more room available, and it’s a king.”  
Crap. Well, Cas doesn't sleep anyway so— “Yeah, ok. That’s fine,” he said because he was just too tired to give a single ounce of a damn.  
“Room 8.”  
Dean took the key from the lady and trotted outside and to their room. He unlocked the door, threw his stuff on the ground, and collapsed on the bed, face first. As soon as his body hit the springy cushion of a bed, he was out.  
And then there was Cas….. He walked over to the dresser that the tv was sitting on and picked up the remote. He took it and sat on the very corner of the bed closest to the television and clicked the red power button on the top of the controller. He made sure to keep the volume really low as to not wake Dean, knowing he needed as much sleep as he could get. Then he remembered how Dean feels about his precious “personal space”, and looked back to where Dean has sprawled himself out. It’s a big enough bed, and Dean was far enough away, and Cas was only on just a little corner of it, so he thinks it's fine and turned his attention back to the tv.  
Castiel watched for about 2 hours after landing on Adult Swim. ‘I don’t understand. How can a fish talk? And why does nobody question the fact this family is harboring an alien in their attic?’ He turned off the television and went over to Dean’s bag and found his father’s journal. Cas always liked going through it, reading about events that had happened when Sam and Dean were just kids and looking at the drawings of creatures and symbols. And, as he’s told Dean before, John had wonderful handwriting; it’s always been very pleasing to Castiel for some reason, probably because it’s orderly but not stressed and fancy. After looking through some more of Dean’s things (partly because he’s still new at the whole ‘boundaries’ thing, and also because he knows Dean doesn't have anything to hide from him and initially won’t care) he notices that the sun will rise soon. He got up from where he was seated on the floor and looked back to where Dean was still sound asleep. He decided to go and pick up something for Dean to eat since they have to get on the road again soon.  
Cas zaps himself to a small little bakery in New York City, that is famous for their S’more Doughnut Sandwiches. Once he gets one of those bad boys, he snaps himself to a random Tim Hortons because he has heard Dean talk about this place with Sam before. “Man, I’m tellin’ you, Starbucks coffee tastes burnt; Tim Hortons is where it’s at.” He takes the s’more doughnut and the coffee, just how Dean likes it, back to the dingy motel room. He’s still asleep when Castiel gets there, so Cas sets the food down on the dresser, and moves over to Dean.  
“Dean,” no response. “DEAN.”  
“What! What, I’m up! I’m up.” Dean quickly and suddenly shifted in bed. “Cas?” he said shortly before remembering where he was and then settling down again. “Mmh, what time is it?” he said while rubbing his eyes.  
“It’s around 6…. I uh— got you some breakfast.”  
“Thanks, man.” Dean got out of bed and shuffled his way to the dresser where the food was. He picked up the coffee and gave it a quick smell, raised his brow a little, and took a sip. Interesting flavor. Interesting indeed. It didn't taste like the 50¢ shit he usually gets; No, this actually tastes good. Then he saw the little baggie. Dare he even look in it? He does and sees the sorcery inside. Holy motherf— what was this blindingly beautiful thing that has bestowed itself upon his eyes? He reached in and picked up the doughnut sandwich that laid inside. He gave it one good look, closed his eyes and took a bite out of it. “Oh. My. God.” Dean opened his eyes and looked at Cas, “This— this is amazing. I mean it's a perfect balance. The gram flavored doughnuts give it an extra sweetness while keeping the original flavor, plus it eliminated the stale cookie crap that has ruined the s’more for decades. And then there's the marshmallow and chocolate that have been melted to perfection and are both still gooey and— it's just so beautiful….” Dean said while trying to suppress a tear forming in his eye.  
“I’m glad you find it pleasing,” Castiel said as a dorky little smile made his way across his face. “We should probably get going though; we still have a few more hours to drive.”  
“What?” Dean said obviously only hearing bits and pieces of what Cas had just said, still too focused on his desert-stuffed breakfast, “Oh, yeah. Ok, let's get a move on then,” he said while throwing his bag over his shoulder so he’d have one hand for the food and another for the coffee.  
They got in the Impala and drove away, skidding the pavement while doing so. Dean had quickly finished off his food, so he started in on the coffee again. He turned the radio on but it took him for-freaking-ever to find a station that played music since all the boring early morning talk shows were still on. The sun was rising to the right of them and Castiel was mesmerized by the rich hues of oranges and yellows along with the pale blues and pinks. His father’s creations have always astonished him and he always beats himself up for spending millennia up in heaven only paying attention to how things worked, instead of what they created.  
Dean found a station that was actually playing music, but it was stuff from the 50s and 60s. Unsatisfied, but tired of flipping around, he left it and just turned the volume down a little, listening more to the sweet purr vibrating from his Baby. Damn, he could listen to that all day. She needs a new muffler though; it’s getting pretty loud and obnoxious and the last thing Dean wants his for his sweetheart to be associated with those trashy douchebag cars that you can tell don't have a muffler at all. Those cars are probably driven by the same people who wear sunglasses at night and inside and would fix a broken window by putting a tarp over it and calling it good. He shakes those sickening thoughts off himself. Well, without good music to listen to, the whole driving thing gets old pretty quick. He started focusing on the sky and all the colors it was projecting at the moment. He looked out the far corner of the windshield finding where the sun was peeking up over the horizon. He hadn't heard much from Cas since they left, and when he looked over at him, he found the angel staring out the window at the world passing by. Cas was sitting up, back as straight as a pin, but his shoulders were relaxed and slightly hunched. Dean couldn't see his face, but he knew he was very concentrated on what he was looking at. There was something about him— like a calmness he couldn't describe, but it was radiating off Cas in waves, causing all the stress that Dean didn't even know was there, to just be washed off him. He looked back to the road to make sure he wasn’t in the other lane of traffic or anything, and then looked over at Cas again. The orange and pink pigments were highlighting the tips of Castiel’s hair. All the light inside and outside the car was soft and smooth, making the atmosphere around them feel light and soothing. Everything was golden and mellow. Right in this moment was the calmest Dean has felt in a long time and it physically pains him that it’s not going to last. The sun will eventually rise and then set, and Cas will eventually be leaving him again. He just wishes he could freeze time and stay there, with Cas, in this moment, just for a little while longer. But Dean knows better than to think like that. He turns back to the miles of road stretching out before them. Time will go on like it always does. Things will get worse like they always do.  
There it is again. Confusion made its way into Castiel as the feeling grew stronger. The longing that he felt coming from Dean the previous night. He slowly turned his head to face Dean, eyes squinted and head tilted. Why was Dean longing for him when he was right next to him?


	3. Chapter 3

They arrived at Etta Crawford’s house a little after 11:40; “Not too bad,” Dean said to himself.  
“Howdy there, you must be Dean! Oh, Bobby has told me so much about you,” Etta said as she came down from her large front porch to greet the boys.  
“Hi there, Mrs. Crawford,” Dean said while shaking her hand.  
“And that must make you Sam,” Etta said while approaching Cas and offering a hand.  
“Actually,” said Dean, “Sam couldn’t make this one. This is Cas. My uh— friend.”  
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Crawford,” Cas said warmly while taking her hand.  
Etta smiled at them and welcomed them inside. “I’ve been too afraid to come in here alone. Whatever this is, it's got some bad juju.”  
Dean and Cas followed her into her home and Cas could immediately feel the bad vibes Etta was talking about.  
“Dean,” Cas silently whispered. “I don’t think this is a ghost. It’s too strong.”  
Dean returned a worried look and listened to Etta as she described all that has happened in the house over the past couple days.  
“It started out real slow,” she said. “I started losing a lot of energy by doing the littlest of tasks. I felt as if I was being held down by some psychic energy cinder blocks, as weird as that sounds.”  
“Then what happened Ma’am?”  
“Well, it got worse from there. Within a week, I couldn’t bring myself to go to work, clean up around the house, cook, or even shower. One day I couldn’t make myself get out of bed in the morning. Now, I’m not depressed or anything like that, so this kind of behavior was all new to me and I knew that something was wrong. So that’s when I called Bobby, got you instead and when you said it’d take a day or two to get to me I decided to just pack my stuff and get out. It took some extreme mental effort, but I just couldn’t stay in this house any longer.”  
“I understand. Thank you, ma’am. Cas and I are just going to check things out in here if you want to wait outside—”  
“Sure thing. Thank you both so much.” Etta made her way back to the front porch.  
“So, Cas, does this sound like anything familiar to you?”  
“Many cultures have their own versions and tales about a spirit that feeds off a living person’s energy. The most recent name I’ve heard it called by was a ‘preta’. It’s probably worth looking into.”  
“Ok. Well, how about you look around and see if you pick up on anything out of the ordinary,” Dean suggested.  
“And what will you do?” Asked Cas.  
Dean pulled his homemade EMF radar from his leather jacket. “I’m going to see if this thing picks anything up,” Dean said and they went their separate ways. 

By the time they had all met back up on the front porch, it was a little after 1:00.  
“Cas and I are going to head out— get some lunch, do a little research, compare notes…”  
“Of course. I should be going now anyway. I have a lot of work I need to catch up on,” Etta said while giving the two a reassuring smile. “But, um, if anything comes up, you can get a hold of me at this number,” she said while handing Cas a slip of paper.  
“Thank you,” he said, smiling. They started walking down the steps when Etta shouted for them.  
“Oh, and boys,” they turned to her and she threw a small bronze key to them. “If you need in the house again while I’m not here…”  
Dean nodded and put the key in his pocket. They got in the Impala and drove to the nearest diner, which apparently was ‘famous’ for their bacon cheese burgers.

“That whole house was coated in EMF. What did you find,” Dean asked after the waiter had taken their orders.  
“I defiantly felt something there. Something strong.”  
“You said something about a— a preta or something earlier…?”  
“Yes,” Cas said. “A preta, nicknamed the ‘hungry ghost’, is a supernatural entity that feeds off a living person’s energy and fear. They suffer extreme hunger and thirst— more than a human can even comprehend. They are said to be the ghosts of people who were corrupt in life. They spend hundreds upon hundred of years basking in all that evil and it makes them into these ‘pretas’.”  
“So what you're saying is, we can kill it like an ordinary ghost?”  
“Well, not exactly.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“It is a ghost, yes, but these are far more powerful, more evil. There are no records anywhere of anyone successfully killing one of these…”  
“But…”  
“But, what Dean? It doesn't attach itself to things like normal ghosts do. They just go from person to person, from house to house, looking for a strong enough host.”  
“Well, crap.”  
“Yes. Crap indeed,” Cas said when the waiter came back with Dean’s burger.  
While Dean ate, Cas searched the web for any information but found nothing. He decided to go out and try to dig something up. While he did that, Dean finished his oh-so-delicious burger and headed to the town’s library.


	4. Chapter 4

They met back up in the motel Dean had chosen for the next night or two. This one, he made sure, had two queens.   
“So, what did you find?” Dean questioned.  
“I went to all of the oldest libraries in America, but found nothing, so I ended up going to the birth regions of pretas— Japan, India, China, Vietnam,—”   
“Did you find a way to kill it, Cas?” Dean said, cutting the angel off.   
“Not exactly…” Cas said. “You can’t kill a preta, but there’s a spell that metaphorically kicks it out of the house, breaking the bond it has made with its host. The same spell also wards the house so it and other pretas can’t come back.”  
“Great. So, what do we have to do?”  
“It calls for raw whole rice, very pure salt, and blood of a virgin.”  
“Seriously, what is it with virgins?” Dean said, aggravated.  
“They are believed to be, in many cultures, a sign of purity,” said Cas.  
“What, so doing something completely natural automatically makes you un-pure and unworthy?” said Dean, clearly growing angry with the cliché expectations.   
“I don’t like it much either Dean,” Cas said trying to settle the other man a little bit.  
“Yeah, well, let’s just get this thing over with,” Dean said walking towards the bathroom. “You go get the stuff. I’m gonna stay here and take a shower.”  
With that, the angel was gone off to who-knows-where, and Dean shut the bathroom door.


	5. Chapter 5

Dean stepped into the not-so-steady stream of water coming from the shower head. As the warm water fell on his shoulders and head, he lost himself in his thoughts.

_'Unpure. That's another word to add to the list of things I am. What else might be on that list, let's see, unwanted unworthy, clumsy, break everything I touch, hurt everyone I love, the list goes on…. I mean common man, I can barely even save my own brother. Sure I’ve stopped more apocalypses than I can count, but I started most of them. Jo, Ellen, Ash, Pamala, Dad, Roofus, Jess, Adam, all the people I couldn't get to in time, they're all dead because of me. I couldn't even save Mom no matter how many times I went back and tried to warn her. I’m the reason Sammy doesn't have a job, a family, a life. And one of these days, I’m going to be the reason he’s dead— for good this time. Cas should have just let me rot in Hell. It’s what I deserve.'_


	6. Chapter 6

Cas was back quickly with the easily accessible items. All he had to do, really, was go to the nearest store. He set the things down on the table and waited for Dean to finish in the shower. Luckily, he didn't take long and was out in a couple of minutes. He looked over to Cas and the supplies on the table. His eyes landed on the vial of blood.  
“Who’s is it?” Cas gave him a confused head tilt. “The blood,” Dean clarified.  
“Oh yes, of course,” Cas said. “It’s mine.”  
“Wait, you're telling me you’re still a…,” Dean said, not able to finish his sentence, desperately trying to fight back a smile.   
“Yes, Dean,” Cas cut in, knowing where he was going.  
“Oh,” Dean said awkwardly. “That— that’s cool…” Dean’s cheeks started to heat up so he tried to change the subject quickly. “Will angel blood work though?”  
“Well, I assume. The point of virgin blood is its purity and angel blood is the purest blood of any creature.”  
“Ok, well, let’s get to it then.” They packed up what they needed and within the minute, were on the road.


	7. Chapter 7

Dean and Cas stumbled back into their motel room a couple of hours later. The preta wasn't all too happy about them trying to take it away from its host, but they got the job done, only receiving a few minor bumps and scraps. They had called Etta on the way back telling her she’d be alright now.   
“Dean, please let me help you with those,” Cas said motioning to the deep cut on his shoulder and the side of his forehead.   
“I said no, Cas,” Dean snapped at the angel as he tied a rag around his arm to stop the bleeding.   
Cas gave him a pained look but knew the hunter wouldn't budge; he had already asked 2 times that night and the answer was always the same. It hurt Cas when Dean wouldn't let him help, but it hurt him, even more, knowing it was because Dean didn't think he deserved such kindness. He knows how worthless Dean feels on the inside and how he tries to mask it with a false sense of narcissism. Every time he gets like this, all Cas wants to do is tell Dean that he is worth help, he is worth kindness, he is worth love, that he is worth everything. If only Dean knew how much he means to people— how much he means to him.   
“Cas, you’re staring. Don’t.”   
“My apologies,” Cas looked away, not even realizing that he was staring at Dean in the first place.   
Dean hit the lights, stripped his jeans off, and crawled into the bed closest to the door. Cas heard light snoring within the hour.


	8. Chapter 8

Castiel enjoyed this time of night; when the air was cool and still and the brothers were finally at peace for a while. Sam and Dean don't get to have calm unless they are asleep, and they don’t get to do that as often as they should.

Cas was deep in meditation when he was pulled out by a distressed whimper. He opened his eyes and looked around the small room. By the time he realized the sound came from Dean, the other man was curled up in bed, screaming and trembling. Cas quickly made his way over to Dean and cupped the man’s sweaty face with his hand. He leaned in close and whispered something in Enochian that immediately made Dean calm down. He began to walk back to the chair he was seated in before when he felt a small but firm tug on his coat. He looked back to the bed and his eyes met with Deans.

“Don’t,” Dean choked back his tears and tried again. “Don’t leave me.”

He slid over on the bed slightly, making room for the other man. Cas looked at him, confused. He soon caught on to what the hunter was asking of him and he laid down on his back next to the hunter, who curled right up next to the side of him, head laying on Cas’ collarbone and hand sprawled across his chest, grabbing onto the material there. The angel wrapped his arm around Dean’s waist and placed his other hand on the side of Dean’s head, holding him close. He carded his fingers through the hunter’s short hair and rubbed small circles into his side with the pad of his thumb, trying to soothe him.

“I would never leave you, Dean.” They laid in like this for several minutes before Cas noticed a change in Dean’s breathing and started to feel a wet spot form on his dress shirt where Dean’s head was laying. It didn't take a genius to know that he was crying. As the thought traveled through Cas’ mind, his heart didn't just drop but was torn right out of his chest and thrown on the ground. His grip on the other man tightened as he pulled him closer. He tilted Dean’s head up slightly and wiped the tears from his face. He pressed a kiss into his temple and whispered over and over, “You are wanted. You are loved. You are wanted. You are loved,” into the other man’s hair until he felt Dean’s breathing even out and turn into light snores.

They stayed like that until the sun started to come up and they had to leave. Cas gently woke Dean up and they began packing their things.

“Uh, hey Cas,” Dean began tentatively. “Um, I just wanted to say, ugh thanks for last night.” A small embarrassed blush was creeping onto Dean’s cheeks and ears.

“Of course, Dean. I’ll always be there for you when you need me.” Cas said, giving Dean a reassuring smile. That was the only time they ever mentioned what happened between them that night. They finished packing and left the room, never to return again.

The trip back to the bunker seemed to fly by. Sure it was filled with crappy diner food, never ending expanses of road, scratchy radio stations, and a few overly-agressive drivers, but it was also filled with Metallica blaring through the speakers, cheesy jokes, and a friendship with a little something more attached to it that neither of them was quite ready to address, even though it’s been there for FIVE FUCKING SEASONS. Dean didn't have another nightmare for a long time after that night at the no-name motel, but when he did, Cas was there to help him through it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this fic was kind of everywhere, but I hope you enjoyed! Tell me what you think


End file.
